


burns don't heal like before and you don't hold me anymore

by httpsigh



Series: what a cheesy love story [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, but not all of them! i made some up :), but of course fate is never that kind, harry just wants louis to be happy and feel loved, just a bunch of sad tumblr quotes woven into a story, louis is just a lonely and damaged boy who wants to be loved, no happy ending because life doesn't actually end like that pal, semi-inspired by drunk by ed sheeran?? kinda sad too but i like to write sad stories i'm sorry, which i am quite proud of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 04:31:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4125586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/httpsigh/pseuds/httpsigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis is a sad boy who gets drunk too often. harry just happens to be the bartender that falls in love with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	burns don't heal like before and you don't hold me anymore

The bar is crowded but he is sat in the corner, moodily drinking bottle after bottle. His blue eyes are unfocused as they roam around the compact building. He shuts his eyes for a moment and suddenly, there is a man with curly brown hair and bright, beautiful green eyes and he’s smiling way too much but it’s kind of cute. Louis likes his shirt a lot.

“Oops,” Louis giggles, his grip loosening on his drink and landing near the grinning stranger. The man laughs, throwing his head back and Louis finds himself smiling at the sight. He wishes he looked pretty like that when he laughed.

“Hi,” the stranger eventually says, “I’m Harry.”

“I’m Lou-Lou-Lou,” Louis tries to say but his tongue isn’t doing what he wants it to. To cover up his blunder, Louis smiles and prays Harry won’t notice his crooked teeth. He’s too drunk to really care anyways.

“I’m just going to call you Lou,” Harry says softly, “Why are you drinking so much?”

“Because I’m sad.”

“You shouldn’t drown yourself in drinks.”

“Until my blood is drowning in alcohol,” Louis hums. Harry instantly recognizes it as Ed Sheeran but doesn’t mention Ed is his best friend (he doesn’t see a point to). Instead, Harry notices the manner in which Louis clutches the drink, nearly depending on it. He wonders why Louis is sad, so he asks.

“Why is a pretty boy like you so sad?” Harry says unhappily, green eyes casted onto Louis’ delicate features. Louis shrugs, cradling his beer bottle closer to himself, as if he’s ashamed. His eyes leave Harry’s face and Harry wishes he could see the beautiful blue once more. Louis doesn’t answer so Harry whispers, “You’ve got beautiful eyes, you know.”

He delicately places his large hand beneath Louis’ soft chin and turns his head so both their eyes are meeting. Under his breath, Harry mumbles, “Pretty and blue like the sea, but maybe sad like you. Why are you so sad?”

“’M not pretty,” is all Louis says, dragging his eyes away. They land on the crowded dance floor, watching enviously as girls and guys are dragged to dance. Harry wants to ask Louis to dance but he figures Louis isn’t in the mood to, besides his boss wouldn’t be very pleased with him.

“You’re beautiful,” Harry says simply, watching for Louis’ reaction.

“I don’t want to be sad,” Louis says suddenly, “You’re making me sad. I just want to be drunk.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry responds nervously, “How about I buy you a drink? Basically a drink on the house.”

“That would make me very happy,” Louis slurs, clapping his hands. Harry laughs again and Louis smiles.

***

The two are sat together, instantly drawn to each other (well Harry behind the counter and Louis sitting on a bar stool). Louis arrives a few hours later than usual, looking even more exhausted and pale than the night before but Harry doesn’t comment on it. He lets Louis order a few beers and sets out a glass of water for himself. Louis asks why Harry isn’t going to drink with him.

“Not when I’m working,” Harry shakes his head, “My boss would kill me.”

Harry wants to know more about the broken boy who drinks and drinks but doesn’t want to make him upset. Louis just wants to be happy.

“Lou, what’s your favorite color?”

“Blue, but not like my eyes, I don’t like them,” Louis laughs. Harry is frowning but he doesn’t say anything, “I like your eyes, Haz, they’re green and pretty.”

“Haz?” Harry raises his eyebrows. Louis nods his head but doesn’t provide an explanation. The only sound for a few minutes is the loud chatter and vibrating music. Harry leaves for a moment but returns shortly to fill Louis’ glass once more; though his eyes say he’s worried about the amount he has served the petite customer. Harry asks another question, “Lou, why don’t you think you’re pretty?”

“I’m not pretty,” Louis nods as if Harry was agreeing with him.

“I don’t think so,” Harry shakes his head, “But why do you think that? You really are.”

“Because he said so,” Louis answers simply. Louis says it as if it’s the most simplest and logical thing ever but Harry can’t even find an entrance to the maze Louis is and he sure as hell can’t find and answer to all the questions rushing in his mind.

Harry wants to know more but he knows better than to ask. Instead he says, “Lou, can I buy you a drink?”

***

They’re at the same bar, crowded but they’re in their own world. Louis is sat in his usual seat while Harry is standing opposite of him, curly hair tied back. Louis likes when Harry wears his hair like that but he never tells him so.

“Do you need to drink?” Harry asks, folding his arms over his chest. His tone isn’t judgmental or disgusted; it’s neutral, as if he’s talking about the weather. He's learned it's better to only ask but never truly share his opinion during his working hours.

“I just want to be happy,” Louis takes another swing from his bottle, finishing it off. He doesn’t waste a second to order another one, ignoring Harry’s hesitant look, “Not tonight, Haz, I want to be happy tonight, okay?”

“This won’t make you happy,” Harry says. He notices the difference in Louis’ appearance. The chestnut, short hair is oily and messy as if it hadn’t been combed in weeks. Louis’ body has thinned and become frail, his skin no longer a slight tan but instead a sickly snow white. Yet somehow, Harry finds himself staring at Louis as if he’s the most beautiful human being on the planet.

Louis frowns, pausing his motions, “Sometimes, I forget to take my medicine and then I don’t take it for an entire week because it doesn’t seem to help at all. Other times I think I should take the whole fucking bottle because maybe then it will help. Sometimes, I don’t eat because I’m busy but sometimes, I don’t eat because I want to be pretty. Some days, I think I’m fine but other days I don’t think I even know what the word means. Some days, things are great. Some days aren’t, but I’m trying.”

“That’s all that matters. But I need you to realize you won’t find happiness at the bottom of that empty bottle,” Harry says cautiously, motioning to the bottle in Louis’ small hands.

“I know that,” Louis rolls his eyes, “Why would I find happiness down there? All I see is my reflection and how would that ever make me happy?”

“One day you’ll see your reflection in a window when you’re walking down the street and you’ll stop and smile because you made it, Lou. You made it because you are so strong.”

“I just want to get drunk; would you do me the honors pretty boy?” Louis asks, completely off topic, “Maybe die as well.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say so he doesn’t say anything until he’s asking again (and he knows he shouldn’t), “Lou, can I buy a handsome man like you a drink?”

***

“I’m tired and I want to go home.”

“Then go,” Harry says softly, taking a sip from his cup of water. Louis on the other hand, holds a large glass of a beer. Harry wants to make sure Louis gets home safely, so of course he plans on accompanying Louis home. The past weeks have been challenging and Harry isn’t sure how much longer he can push back the urge to kiss Louis.

“’S lonely there,” Louis replies, shrugging. He looks away. Harry realizes that Louis’ home is important to him though he may not like it.

“I can stay this time, if you want,” Harry supplies unconfidently. He bites his lip as he waits for Louis to answer.

“That’s what he said too,” Louis responds sadly. It’s silent between them for a few moments. Louis has a fruity drink in his hand this time, unlike the usual cold beer. He stirs the straw and stares the cup before he takes a few sips, wincing as the drink makes its way down his throat. Harry notices.

“Do you want to tell me who he is?” Harry suggests carefully. Louis shakes his head, shoving his drink away. Instead, Louis asks, “Can I get a stronger drink, please?”

“Will you tell me who he is?” Harry asks.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” Louis answers. Harry knows he won’t but he doesn’t get angry. Instead, he sighs heavily and looks back at Louis.

“Lou, can I buy you a drink?”

***

“I don’t understand.”

“What?”

“So many people here, so many bodies but I still feel lonely.”

“No one needs a reason to feel sad, Lou, some people just are.”

“Do you think the sadness will last forever?” Louis drunkenly asks, “I don’t want it to.”

Harry shakes his head, “No, it will fade away and one day you won’t be searching for your happiness at the bottom of empty liquor bottles or at the ends of burnt cigarettes. One day you’ll wake up and be happy with yourself and the life you’ve created. You just got to keep going.”

“I trusted him. I gave him the gun and I didn’t think he’d pull the trigger. I fucking loved him but he loved to flirt with tragedy,” Louis says with a blank look. Harry doesn’t like this Louis but he knows the mask is starting to fray and Louis can only keep the pieces together for so long, “I need a cigarette.”

“You can do this without that cancer stick,” Harry says quietly, “What’d he do? Who hurt you so badly?”

“He left. If anyone ever asks, I’ll tell them it was for the best and when I see him, I’ll pretend I’m okay. Like it doesn’t even hurt anymore. Isn’t it ironic that it feels like someone ripped out my heart?” Louis sadly smiles. Harry wants to kiss Louis but he knows he shouldn’t.

He finds himself asking, “Lou, will you let me buy you a drink?”

***

“I just want to leave. Burn it all and watch the ashes surround and fill the place I once called home,” Louis says darkly, bitterly chugging. Harry instantly recognizes today is one of Louis’ bad days.

“Why?”  
“I’m trapped here,” Louis motions to his body, “And I’m paying for a crime I didn’t even know I committed. And by the end of everything, after trying so hard to free myself, I’m the one who wakes up alone and sad, with sore wrists.”  
“Baby, I hope one day you’re body isn’t a jail cell anymore, instead it becomes a beautiful sunny day hidden away inside you,” Harry doesn’t want to think of Louis ever bringing a razor to his wrists but he knows Louis does anyways.  
“The skies have been cloudy for a while, Haz, and there’s no such thing as miracles so I don’t think the sun will be coming out any time soon.”  
“You are sitting in an old, dingy bar with me on a planet that exists and spins in the middle of nowhere around a giant ball of fire yet there is somehow life and you don’t believe in miracles?”  
Louis doesn’t speak to Harry until Harry asks, “Will you let me buy you a drink?”

***

The conversation started out quietly, each boy muttering words yet they both wouldn’t have it any other way. Harry hands Louis a glass of water, telling the drunken boy it’s a special type of vodka.

“What’s your mum like?” Harry asks. Louis shrugs. 

“I don’t like her.”

“Why not? Everyone should love their mother.”

Louis doesn’t respond and Harry doesn’t know if he should change the topic or let the conversation cool down. He doesn’t have long to think about it because Louis is talking again.

“She drank herself to sleep every night, as if the shots of vodka were her lullabies and the bottles of jack lined against her wall were the sheep she counted. I asked her once why she drank so much and she told me to get out of her room because I looked too much like my father, who hadn’t been around for a while. I wondered if he got lost at the supermarket like I did sometimes.”

“Lou-” Harry begins but Louis continues.

“When my older sister was seventeen, I noticed she was quieter, smaller. She used to be her own sun but she had converted into a dying star, colliding onto the Earth with such force, it shattered her frail bones and I was left to clean up her dust. One day, she left in the middle of the night and never came back. My sixteen year old brother snuck out, once my mum had passed out from her thirteenth glass of wine. He came home several hours later with bloodshot eyes and buckling knees. I remember asking him about the small red and white pills in between his mattress. He left too and I wonder if maybe I had said something, he wouldn’t have died from a heroin overdose on the side of the road.”

“Don’t blame yourself for other’s problems; you have enough of your own.”

“It seems, once again Haz, that I am the one who is handed all the problems to fix and solve.”

“Lou, can I buy you a drink?”

Louis begins to nod his head but stops. He looks down for a moment before he quietly says, “I’ll have a water.”

***

“My therapist said I should be happier.”

“Don’t do it if you don’t really feel that.”

“Enjoy life, live it to the fullest. That’s what they always say,” Louis sighs, “I’m trying, Haz, I really am but it doesn’t seem to be good enough for anyone! Not even me.”

Harry sees the tears building up in Louis’ blue eyes and feels a pang in his chest, “People seem to think that means jumping off cliffs and going new places but really, it can be as small as learning to love yourself.”

“I can’t even do that.”

“But you’re working on it and I’ll help you if you want.”

“Would you?” Louis asks quietly, “I understand if you don’t want to. I don’t want you to think that I’m using you.”

“I would never.”

“I worry too much about him, I think about him too much. It’s as if he’s still the biggest part of my shitty world.”

“You still love him?”

“More than anything.”

Harry’s heart breaks, “Focus on you, alright? Don’t let your world revolve around someone temporary, because no matter how many promises they make, they will leave and you need to be ready for that. The Grim Reaper feels no sympathy and will whisk away anyone he pleases.”

“I want to get better,” Louis says, “I want to be better.”

“You will be, you can be.”

It isn’t until when Harry is walking Louis home and Louis shuts his front door, does Harry realize Louis never ordered a single drink, never ever slurred a word.

***

“Why am I alive?” Louis asks, taking a sip from his beer. Harry is disappointed Louis is drinking again, but he notices Louis drinks slowly now.

“You’re alive because there is something the universe wanted you to see, you are alive because you are going to or already have saved someone. And maybe that someone is a dog you adopted when you were three but you saved it. You are alive because you are worth being alive.”

“But what if I don’t want to be? Doesn’t that matter? Doesn’t it matter what I want?” Louis pokes at Harry’s chest, “If I don’t want to be alive, I shouldn’t have to be! Humans are so selfish. We only cry at funerals because we miss them being in our lives. We don’t think maybe they’re better off. Funerals are never for the dead, they’re for the living.”

Harry is speechless. Louis sits silently, breathing unevenly but is trying to hide it. He orders another cup of beer and glares when the bartender hesitates. Harry doesn’t buy Louis a drink that night.

***

“He doesn’t love me,” Louis rushes in to the bar, collapsing onto the bar seat, “He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t love.”

“Who?” Harry asks, eyes widening in worry.

“He doesn’t love me anymore,” Louis repeats, “He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t love me.”

“Okay now, breathe Lou,” Harry says, inhaling deeply, “Breathe with me alright? I know it doesn’t feel like it but everything will work out.”

“He left. If he loved me, why’d he leave me?”

Harry fights the urge to refer to the song, “I don’t know, Lou, people do horrible things.”

“I loved him, I loved him, I loved him,” Louis sobs, “But he didn’t love me.”

“Life is like that,” is all Harry can say, “And we just have to accept it and move on.”

“Why does love hurt me?” Louis innocently asks, “It’s always hurt me.”

“Love won’t always do that,” Harry says weakly, fighting back tears. He wants to believe himself but he’s beginning to doubt himself again.

“He’s not coming back, is he?”

“I don’t know, Lou.”

“He’s not coming back, I know he’s not. He’s never going to,” Louis looks away, “Doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop waiting.”

“Do you love him?” Harry’s stomach turns in knots as he repeats his question he asked a few nights past. Louis doesn’t answer immediately as he did previously.

“I don’t know how to not,” Louis responds quietly, “Let me tell you, the hardest thing to do in life.”

“I’m listening,” Harry’s voice is quiet and he’s not sure Louis heard him.

“The hardest part is knowing you have to stop loving someone, not because you want to, but because they stopped loving you.”

“You can’t just stop loving someone because they don’t love you anymore.”

“Are you happy?” Louis asks suddenly. Harry’s mouth closes and thinks.

“I don’t know,” Harry sounds surprised, "I don't have any reason to not be, I have a roof over my head, a job."

“I don’t think I’ve ever been truly happy. I’m not even sure if it exists. Is it just something we tell ourselves every day to keep going?”

Harry goes to say something but light snores are leaving Louis’ mouth and he nearly knocked over his glass of beer. Brandon grabs the cup and wastes no time pouring it down the sink.

“Should I call him a cab?” Brandon asks, already picking up the telephone below the counter. Harry shakes his head.

“I got him.”

“Alright, be safe,” Brandon lightly smiles before returning to his mixes of drink, “See you tomorrow, Harry.”

Louis is sleeping soundly in Harry’s arms as Harry hobbles down the street in the direction towards Louis’ house. Harry looks down at the peaceful sleeper, “He’s your world, isn’t he? He’s your world and he doesn’t even know it.”

***

It was different, something was off and Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Louis was there, most likely drunk due to the way his actions were uncontrolled and dragged on. But the blue eyes 

Harry had fallen for were blank and bloodshot.

“Lou, are you on anything?”

“I want to be on you,” Louis laughs, clapping his hands. Harry grimaces, trying to lighten up but all he can think of is Louis’ older brother, “I took those little red and white pills; do you think I’ll end up like my brother too?”

“No,” Harry shakes his head, ignoring the hope shining in Louis’ eyes, “No, that won’t happen to you.”

“You said to be happy,” Louis pouts, “I will be happy when I’m gone. He said he would be happier up there.”

“Who? Your brother?”

“No, him,” Louis says, still not supplying a name. Harry realizes this is the him Louis constantly talks about.

“There’s a way to be happy here too, okay? You can be happy here.”

“He said that a lot, that he would be happy. He said he was happy.”

“When did he leave, Lou?”

“Day before I was born,” Louis answers grimly, “I feel tired but I don’t want to sleep.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll see his face and I’ll want him to kiss me but we all know that’s never happening.”

“Why’s that?” Harry asks, brow furrowing. He takes a sip from his iced water, forcing a smile towards the other bartender, Brandon, who watches the pair curiously.

“He killed himself,” Louis responds bluntly, “I want to go with him. He said he would take me up there one day.”

“One day,” Harry repeats, “In a couple years, okay Lou? You still got a little while to go.”

“I want to it. I really do but I’m too scared.”

“Don’t.”

“Why not? I don’t mean anything to anyone.”

“Are you blind?” Harry asks incredulously, “You mean so much to me. I fucking love you, alright? And you mean so much to me and I don’t know how to prove it you. Lou, I’m in love with you and it’s pathetic.”

Louis is standing up and Harry doesn’t know what to do because he just said he loved Louis and Louis is leaving. Before Louis is lost in the crowd, he turns to Harry, “My name’s Louis.”

And then he’s gone.

Harry buys himself a drink and can’t find himself to care he’s supposed to be working.

***

“Why are you here all alone?” the man asks, brown eyes filled with wonder. He takes a seat beside the curly haired boy, watching as he continues to drink. Brandon watches from afar, worry painted on his features. Harry turns to the stranger, a dazed, ghostly smile on his face. His words mush together and are said slowly but the man is still able to understand him.

“He’s supposed to be here, you know. He’s always here.”

“Who’s he?” the man asks, motioning to Brandon, "Can I get a beer?"

“Lou, he’s always here and I’m always here for him,” Harry says thoughtfully, puzzled as to why the beautiful blue eyed boy is not there.

“I’m sure he’ll show up,” the man says unsure, already getting up to leave. Harry doesn’t react, instead looks blankly out at the crowd.

“I’ve been waiting a few weeks now, but it’s okay, he’ll come.”

“Harry,” Brandon sighs. He leans against the dirty bar, watching Harry carefully, “I think you’ve had enough. Please don’t turn into him.”

Harry just ordered his sixth drink and Brandon has seen Harry at his worst and would rather not see it again.

“Who is him?” Harry laughs, throwing his head back just the way Louis loved. Brandon is silent, unsure of what to say, “Brandon, why does my heart hurt?”

Brandon can’t form any words to explain to the damaged boy why so he doesn’t try. Instead, he continues to clean up the mess party goers had created while Harry had sat back and bitterly watched. It’s nearly three in the morning and Harry’s eyes are void of emotion as he stares at the table.

“Harry? We’ve got to close up, shall I give you a ride home?”

Harry doesn’t respond for a moment but when he does, his voice is monotone and his face bears no expression, “Okay.”

Once both are in the car and Brandon is driving towards Harry’s house, Harry speaks again.

“I knew a boy whose lips spilled I’m sorry’s like his body pumps blood to his veins. He spoke in riddles of poetry and drank alcohol as it if were the air his lungs desperately needed. I knew a boy who was cracked and frayed at the edges, a boy so broken down by the world he refused to pick up the pieces. I knew a boy with saddened blue eyes and thin lips always formed in a pout. I once knew a sad, broken boy and I loved him.”


End file.
